


Tonight, I Suppose

by CaptainErica



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, HP: EWE
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-29
Updated: 2017-07-29
Packaged: 2018-12-08 09:23:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11643633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainErica/pseuds/CaptainErica
Summary: Pansy finds herself with a bit of a crush on a certain redhead...





	Tonight, I Suppose

Pansy had a crush.

She was too old for crushes, really, had decided this at lunch with Astoria and Daphne a week or so ago, but here she was with a very definite crush. Nevermind the fact that the girls had told her that having crushes was ageless, that despite marriage, Astoria hadn't stopped having a crush on Blaise (a fact that made her sister's nose scrunch in slight disgust). Pansy didn't think  _ that _ quite counted anyway, so she wasn't going to consider it viable. The fact that having a crush was legitimately not something one could prevent or expect… that didn't matter, she was a grown woman of 25, she had her beliefs, she could do anything.

Except defeat this accursed crush.

It had started that morning, a full 5 years since she'd been to the ministry or to any type of event that  _ he _ could have gone to. Or, really, she  _ had _ been to some events he normally went to in those 5 years, but she hadn't seen him at them, possibly because he wasn't quite so loud anymore (not strictly true but her view of him had always been exaggerated). If it had been an event that she'd deigned to attend, and not a meeting with someone to help her with a restraining order she'd filed on her (very) ex-fiance, then maybe it would be just a little less embarrassing, this sudden onslaught of childish emotion.

But it wasn't.

She had been reduced to asking the Aurors for a real way to deter Marcus, and so it was that she found herself here, before 11am (horrendous time of day) walking briskly through the Atrium toward the elevator bank. Her eyes, as she waits for the lift doors to open, scan the area around her and land on a tall man with red hair, and her stomach flips, eyes widening briefly before before the door opens and she’s stepping into the lift without much thought. She’s already flustered, trying to keep her focus, trying not to feel ridiculous for coming here (and then to see  _ Weasley _ of all people while she’s in such a state), and her stomach is all in knots about  _ Weasley _ and the way his hair had fallen into his eyes, and the fact that… That he was cute,  _ handsome _ even, really.

Pansy shudders a little, pausing mid-step before shaking her head and continuing on to the office she’d been directed to. It all feels very ludicrous while she’s waiting there, and then she’s in the office and trying to explain. “It's not that he's necessarily  _ malicious _ , mind, he's just still not got the hint, you know? Running around and trying to catch me out at different places, going round to my mother's… he makes her uneasy, see, his family never truly got along with mine so mother and I would feel much more secure with just a little more protection.” she says, and the clerk nods, a quill running rapidly over a piece of parchment beside him.

“And has he made any threats?” the clerk asks, and he's following protocol, obviously, she had already seen him sign the order to give her the protection, but it's still annoying.

“Well aside from  _ everything _ I've just told you, he leaves notes with mother's elves, for me, you see, as he doesn't believe I don't live there anymore, and they're just a little…” she trails off, had never been able to explain them as well as they could explain themselves. 

The clerk holds out his hand, face not unkind, and she hands them over, every letter that her mother and friends had convinced her to save  _ just in case. _

“I think that should be everything, Ms. Parkinson.” He says, and she nods, standing up slowly, hoping against hope that whoever comes to deliver the charm isn't someone she knows. 

When she leaves the office, bright blue robes blowing back as she's hit by the forced air in the hall, her eyes land on exactly the person she'd spied that morning as she walked in: Ronald Weasley.

Unlike that morning, when a passing glance as she'd waited for the lift had caused her stomach to flip in a way that wasn't unpleasant but that she couldn't quite attribute to him until she'd sat down, her gaze now recommends her to the nice jawline and proper height of him. It also takes into account that his ginger hair looks fetching with his light brown eyes and the smattering of freckles across his very pale face. She looks away as quickly as she can, hoping he hadn't seen her staring as he spoke with someone else, casually leaning his shoulder against the wall. 

Pansy pulls in a tight breath, lets it out as surreptitiously as possible, keeping her attention ahead of her now, counting her steps and focusing on the  _ click click _ of her heeled boots as she walks heel-toe down the hallway to the elevator bank. She's rather pleased with herself when she gets there, all thoughts of Ronald Weasley gone from her head for the moment as it's filled with the inanity of her walk. But she's jarred out of that when someone walks in, talking brightly with the witch beside her. 

“Well, he's only here to see Mr. Potter, is what I heard.” she's saying as the doors close. “heard he's still not talking to Miss Granger.”

The other witch makes a soft noise, a mixture of agreement and thoughtfulness. “that's a shame, really, they were all so close at Hogwarts, I was in their House, saw them all together, you know?” 

Pansy tunes them out, then, stomach flipping a little because there's only one person they could be talking about, and it's the same person she was trying hard not to think about right then. But she can't ignore the thoughts for long, they come barging back in at the sight of ginger hair on the next level; a Weasley, but the wrong one. She sighs, forces herself not to look at this one, doesn't remember his name anyway, and contents herself with ruminating on how tall Ronald was, how his shoulders were only slightly slimmer than she tended to like, how she-

“Oh  _ no.”  _ she mutters to herself, quite accidentally aloud, and then flushes and tries to be invisible for a moment so no one will look at her. It's too late for her, though, really, she muses as she stares up at the ceiling of the lift; she's got a slight crush on Ronald Weasley.

By the time she is home, however, it's quite a bit more than that. She hadn't been able to stop herself, really. She'd stopped in at Witch Weekly to see Daphne, and rather innocently poked around for information from her. It was all stuff she'd heard before, of course, as Daphne always told her the latest gossip, but it was all still helpful in fanning the flames of her crush.

For example, there was the juicy fact that he and Granger had had a falling out of some kind a little more than three years previously (very close to when she'd left Marcus, actually) and had called off their engagement. The more Pansy thought about that piece of news, the more she remembered it, the way it had been in the news, how pictures of the three war heroes in the paper from then on had always had a little edge to them. She wanted to think of it as how they were suddenly flanking Potter instead of standing beside each other, but that would be a ridiculous thought because they always put Potter in the middle of press photos; the edge came from the subtleties, the fixed stare, the fidgeting, the hand Granger kept tight on the sleeve of Potter’s robes…

Daphne had showed her some of the pictures, pointed out the differences (always time to gossip about  _ them _ ), but while Pansy could remember what Daphne had said to her, the things she remembered most from the photographs were far more  _ Weasley _ than anything else. Like the way his smile was, at first glance, bold and confident, but if you looked you could see it was a mask; the anxiety hiding behind his eyes. The way he seemed to be trying to decide if he wanted short hair or long hair, the way his eyes darted around the frame (and never landed on Granger in the later photos, smiles becoming a little naturally stronger as time went on). 

With a bit of a snarl, Pansy pulls her thoughts away from  _ Weasley _ and turns them to her normal daily routine, hoping she doesn’t have to deal with anymore of these thoughts for the rest of the day. If she just puts them out of her mind, she’ll be over it and never think about it again. She sets her mind to cleaning charms, and then to her sketches, and after three hours she notes that her most recent model is rather similar to a certain  _ Weasley. _

She throws her quill down, crosses her arms over her chest, and then sighs as her head drops back. “This is ludicrous.” She whispers, fierce, squeezing her eyes shut tight. Giving up on sketching, Pansy decides to have dinner, then she sits down with a small book and falls asleep there, before the empty hearth of her fireplace. She awakens in the middle of the night, uncomfortable, cold, the edge of a pleasant dream pushing against her thoughts as she stumbles off the couch and heads for her room to change and actually go to bed.

~~

In time Pansy gets used to the thoughts. She sees Ronald more often now: as she walks through Diagon Alley with her mother, when she’s out to lunch with Astoria, at Gringotts, outside the Hog’s Head (she will never admit to having gone there). It’s strange, and she wonders, very suddenly, if he knows she’s been thinking about him and that’s why she’s seeing him all the time, but she knows that can’t possibly it. It’s far more plausible that she had just not noticed him before that fateful day at the Ministry almost a month ago. He was less obnoxious now, really, so why would she have noticed him?

She learns, through her new observations, that Ronald and Granger may not necessarily be as close as they were previously, but they did, in fact, speak to each other and the three heroes were often out together…

Well, that is, except it wasn’t just the three of them, not really. It was Potter, and Ronald’s sister, and Granger, and Ronald, and sometimes that rather loony blonde girl, or other people she remembers vaguely from school. They were rarely all seen out just with the three of them, which she shouldn’t be able to say with such finality after only a month of really noticing Ronald. And then…

“I’m miffed.” Daphne says, tucking her hair behind her ear. She’s normally very poised and put together, but today she’s leaning forward on the table, elbows holding her up, the hand that had played with her hair holding there like she’s forgotten she had moved at all.

Pansy raises an eyebrow and sips delicately at her drink. “You’ve not even had one drink, please don’t tell me you’re drunk already.” She says, a little annoyed sounding, her eyes moving around the room briefly to take stock of the people there. “And sit up,  _ please. _ ”

Daphne sighs, but sits up a little obediently, clearly a little unhappy doing it. “I’m not drunk.” She says, a little offended, but she can’t keep it up for very long, and she sighs, looking away for a moment. “Well, you’ll probably find out soon enough anyway.” She says, and that catches Pansy’s attention away from where she was trying to decide if the man at the bar was  _ really _ attractive, of if she was just very suddenly into tall, skinny men.

“Oh? What’s this, then?” she asks, interested eyes turning toward Daphne fully.

Daphne sighs, takes a sip of her drink, and then sighs again. “Well, you know how Draco has been having dealings with the ministry, yes?” She asks, and Pansy nods. It had been a confusing business thing, if she remembered properly; she hadn’t cared all that much when he’d told her, was just pleased he was doing  _ something. _

“Yes, very strange, right?” she asks, settling in for the story. “It was with one of the re-arranged divisions, yeah? Like the non-human division, or something?”

Daphne waves her hand in dismissal, even as she nods. “Yes, probably, but the important thing is that he’s  _ met someone. _ ” She says, and she sounds a little distressed, though it takes Pansy a few seconds to figure out why this would be anything but  _ good _ news.

“Oh, oh Daph.” She says softly, reaching out to pat her hand. “You didn’t really, couldn’t have, your personalities just wouldn’t work together, you know that.” She says, and as someone who had learned that the hard way, she can only hope that Daphne isn’t offended.

Daphne sighs, accepts the gentle comfort, and then shakes her head. “No, I  _ know _ , truly I do.” She says, then her mouth settles into a soft moue of upset. “But really I’m just offended about  _ who _ it is, you know? It would be less of a  _ thing _ if he hadn’t…” She sighs, takes a large sip of her drink, and then shakes her head. “It’s Granger, he’s gone and fallen for Granger, it will be all over the  _ Prophet _ tomorrow.” She says, and Pansy blinks once, twice, then she realizes her jaw has dropped and she shuts her mouth.

“I don’t…” But it made sense, in a very strange, horrifying way, and she doesn’t know much about Granger outside of the very obvious but… “Were they seen out together?” She asks after a moment where she collects herself, and Daphne finishes off her drink and nods.

“At lunch, today.” She confirms, then shakes her head and runs her fingers carefully through her hair to set it back in place. “Honestly, I’m sure they’ll be horribly perfect for each other, and that’s really what’s so awful about it. That and he hasn’t told either of  _ us _ clearly, so I don’t know what he’s playing at.” 

Pansy’s mind wanders briefly, wonders if this means she has even the ghost of a chance with Weasley… But he was always far more against them than the other three, Potter had even forgiven them all publicly…

After another drink they’re out leaning against the bar, talking with someone from school that they hadn’t seen in  _ years, _ and a tall man sidles up beside them, raising two fingers to the bartender and then leaning back to get the attention of his friends and-

“Oh Merlin, Pansy, is that who I think it is?” Daph whispers, a little more loudly than Pansy would have liked her to.

“If you mean  _ Weasley, _ ” She hisses into Daphne’s ear, “Then the answer is  _ yes _ and  _ stop talking about it. _ ” But of course, it’s too late; Ronald’s eyes swing away from his friends (Potter and a couple other guys, she can’t make them out from here as she’s trying not to be too obvious about looking), and they catch on Daphne first, then Pansy, where they stick.

“Parkinson.” He says with a polite nod, lips turned up in a grin already. It might just be her imagination, but it feels like it takes a while for his eyes to leave her and move back to Daph. “Greengrass.” He says, nod again, and they both murmur their hellos before his attention is grabbed by the bartender handing him his drinks. “Enjoy yourselves, yeah?” He says, still grinning, eyes warm and almost teasing as they land on Pansy again, and she’s a little shocked and a lot warm from the encounter.

“Oh dear.” Daphne says as they turn away from that spot so they can’t be caught looking. “Either I’m far drunker than I imagined, or he’s gotten much more confident over time.” She says, and Pansy makes a slight, shrill sound, on the verge of unhinged.

“No, no he seems far more confident.” She says tightly, bringing her drink to her lips and taking a larger gulp than originally intended, wincing as it goes down. “Far,  _ far _ more.” she adds, voice gone a little raspy.

She’s not sure how it happens, would deny it if there was even the hint of some reason for her to, but she and Daphne end up, along with a few other random people from their year, sitting with the group of guys that included Weasley and Potter. It’s loud and comfortable in a way she would never have expected it to be, spending time with them in a bar. They’re loud and obnoxious, but the teasing isn’t malicious, it’s fun, banter, just playful and not meant to hurt or get anything from you. It’s a warm atmosphere, and so if she allows herself to sit beside Ronald, interact with him a little informally… well, it was the situation that led to it, that and the few drinks she’d had before allowing her alcohol-induced courage to head over there.

“Pretty girls like you shouldn’t come to bars alone like this.” Ronald says, and he’s a little drunk, maybe, but she’s far drunker.

“Pretty girls need to find similarly pretty boys somehow, Weasley.” She responds, and he laughs, shaking his head a little like she’s far funnier than she actually is. “Besides, I came with Daphne, that’s hardly alone.” She says, leaning a little into his side, like she’s telling him a secret and not at all like she just wants to be closer so she can decide what he smells like (your crush is unmanageable).

“Yes, I’m sure she could get you home safely the way she’s going.” He says, nodding over toward her, and Pansy doesn’t have to look to know that Daphne is very deftly playing up being sloshed out of her mind, because she knows Daphne very well, knows that no matter the situation, Daphne wouldn’t actually get too bad. 

“Oh dear.” She says, looking over at Daphne anyway, taking in the way she’s leaning against some man she thinks might have been in Ravenclaw. “I may have to get  _ her _ home.” She says, but she doesn’t mean it, and she thinks Ronald knows that.

“Nah, Harry’ll make sure she gets home alright if it comes to it, but, miss Parkinson, I don’t think I can let you go home alone like this.” He says, and she lets her finger skim over the rim of her glass for a moment, like she’s thinking about what he might be offering when instead she’s trying to decide the least eager way to ask him to take her home.

“Oh? Well then, you’ll just have to escort me, so that you can be certain that I make it safely.” And she’s very proud of that sentence, because it sounds like it must have come out pretty coherently, at least to her ears.

Ronald downs the rest of his drink, and then slowly nudges her to get up. “I think I will, then.” He says, and then they’re on their way and she tries not to blush at the wink Daphne sends her, lurid and over-the-top as it is.

In front of her door they stop, and he’s gangly and awkward again, exactly as she had imagined he should be, like all of the confidence had bled out of him on their way to her place. “You should be all set now.” He says, and she smiles at him softly.

“Tonight, I suppose.” She says, leaning back against the door, hands behind her back so she doesn’t reach up to touch him (horrible crushes are horrible). “But I’m not so sure I’ll be ‘set’ tomorrow.” She says, a little morose and completely an act.

Ronald smiles, confidence slowly returning at the implication. “Well, If you’re available for lunch, then I can check in, make sure you’re still doing well.” He says, and she pretends to think for a moment before nodding. 

“Hm, that might just be necessary.” She says, before turning to open the door as he backs away slowly. She pauses and looks over her shoulder, a smile that she hopes is fetching on her lips. “Do try not to be too late, I hate waiting.” She says, and then she’s inside, door closed behind her, and Ronald’s soft chuckle, floating through to her from the other side of the door, makes her heart beat just a little faster. 

She’ll need to get to bed  _ now _ to be ready for tomorrow.

**Author's Note:**

> This is just nonsense because I needed a break from other stories for the moment.... I hope you enjoyed!


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